


Bitter Medicine

by Dawn_Blossom



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Ancient Grima, Flower Symbolism, Gen, Hanahaki Disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27273361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn_Blossom
Summary: Hatred kills the flowers born of unrequited love for humanity.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Bitter Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks it's night 8 of no electricity but I have one (1) car phone charger so at least I can still yell about grima on the internet.
> 
> So you may be aware that I have another grima hanahaki fic out there... This one's completely unrelated though (but man, can you imagine if grima got hanahaki AGAIN after this???). I just had some thoughts about how hanahaki could work re grima's feelings of betrayal and wanted to do a little piece about it.
> 
> Anyway... I'm not my best self at the moment, but I hope you'll still get something out of this fic.

Love. Grima knows it, feels it deep inside him where it connects him to his human allies. Love, a binding force that keeps companions together.

Love, a concept so utterly false. Love, a lie they tell so they can use you. Love, a meaningless feeling.

And yet, love is such a powerful feeling that even he is prey to its whims. The pain of love not returned, weaponized inward, turns to petals, leaves, and thorns that scratch his insides. 

The scorch of fiery dragonbreath turns the first colorful blooms to ash, and all witnesses with them. But it is not one human rejecting him; it is a premeditated betrayal by the lot of them. After all he's done for them...

Yellow carnations haunt his path. He takes on a humanlike appearance less and less often. It does not stop the flowers from coming, but when he is large enough to fill the entire sky, even a large blossom is completely insignificant to him.

Some of the humans pity him. They claim to be loyal to him. They stay and fight by his side when the others take up arms against him. But they do not love him... Some of them want justice. Others want power and nothing more... The leader of the group approaches him to suggest a blood pact of the kind the heir of House Ylisse has forged with Naga to put him down. Her words are sweet as honey. Magical binding. Worship passed down her bloodline. Unending duty. He knows what she wants: the power of a god. A commoner by birth, she never could have hoped to achieve the influence she has now as a military leader. She could declare herself queen and the Grimleal would support her.

She doesn't need his power for that. But something inside him makes him grant her wish anyway. A rejection from him might destroy the support she has already earned.

The pear blossoms coated in blood are not part of the ritual, but his bloodbound servant is too thrilled with her new power to notice worthless little details like that.

His condition slowly starts to improve as the fight goes on. Not because the humans begin to love him; he knows they will abandon him the second they believe he might fail (and indeed, some have already left... for the other side or for home, it is the same to Grima). Grima is simply getting better at learning to forget that burning, desperate feeling called love. Every former ally he faces on the battlefield chills his blood a little more. Yellow roses wither and die in his throat before they see the light of day. He spits the shriveled petals on the corpses he burns; they deserve no graves, but he will still stain their resting place.

Hatred, it seems, is the cure for his sorry state, and he takes naturally to the bitter medicine.

He curses the name of his latest victim, a man he thought he knew... A man he thought he cared for. Some good it did him! What a waste of time... Now, spite severs the pathetic human's grip on Grima's soul. With that, honeysuckle no longer blooms within him.

He slays a cleric praying to Naga. She and her fellows of faith used to ask him for blessings. None of them ever deserved any. Bluebells drown in the bile rising in his throat and do not return.

Over time, he stops noticing who lives and dies on the battlefield. Humanity blurs into a writhing mass of insects, and when the only thing still burning inside him is rage, he coughs out rosemary for the very last time.

Then, finally, there are no flowers left. Love, that dreadful affliction, is no match for his strength. He did not claw his way from the underground once merely to become garden dirt now. 

Never again will humanity see anything of beauty from him. They are the worms writhing in dirt. And soon, dirt is all that will remain of this world.

Despair supports no life.

**Author's Note:**

> Yellow Carnation: rejection, disdain, disappointment
> 
> Pear Blossom: lasting friendship
> 
> Yellow Rose: friendship [...] intense emotion [...] extreme betrayal, a broken heart [...]
> 
> Honeysuckle: devoted affection, bonds of love
> 
> Bluebell: loyalty, constancy, humility & gratitude
> 
> Rosemary: rememberance
> 
> I can never seem to escape from the Plant Symbolisn wikipedia page...


End file.
